To End All Wars: First Front
by FM Jacquet
Summary: The threat of war between Drachma and Amestris looms as Drachma attempts to annex Isbhal.(Rated M for graphic descriptions of war, violence, language, and sexual references).
1. Preface

1914. Amestris and Drachma, bitter enemies for many decades, have found themselves thrust into the throes of bloody conflict with one another. Amestris, enraged by the Drachman annexation of Ishbal, declared total war against their most hated enemy.

But it soon became apparent that this was to be a new type of war; a bloody, pro-longed conflict withfar-reaching, even global consequences. As men on both sides prepared themselves for what was to be the most explosive conflict in the history of mankind, new engines of destruction made their debut on the battlefield. Not only would soldiers on both sides have Alchemy to fear, but new technological advances like the airplane, the tank, poison gas, and trench warfare made it clear that the face of war would be changed forever.

As Amestris' Fuhrer Bradley struggled to hold together a nation beset with prejudice and class division, and Staunch Emperor Cedric III rallied his people to defend their homeland. In the war to end all wars, the stakes had never been higher, and the world would never be the same again.


	2. Chapter I

I

Edward Elric watched the sun as it slowly descended behind the clouds. It seemed to follow him as the train he was traveling in passed by a small town and chugged its way into a mountainous stretch of land. If his brother Alphonse, who sat across from him, could demonstrate any emotion with his face, he would be looking at his brother with some concern. "Brother?" he asked.

"Yeah?" replied Ed, his voice dragging.

"It's there something wrong? You've seemed kind of out of it lately." Ed turned slowly to his brother.

"It's nothing. I'm just tired is all." he replied. Tired. That was a word that had lost all meaning to Al so long ago. "The military is a real bitch. How many times how we been on a train this month?"

"I haven't kept track."

"That's exactly it. Mustang keeps handing down these assignments that require weeks of traveling and a bare minimum of work. It's starting to wear on me."

"But what can you expect with what's going on right now. Drachma made those threats that they would

Alphonse looked at the window along with his brother. The sun was giving off its last rays of light and a cooling darkness was slowly descending across the rural countryside. "Yes. I suppose it would courteous if he could at least make it worth the trip."

By the time they arrived back in Amestris, it was past midnight and Edward was already asleep. The station was basically empty, save for half-a-dozen or so armed soldiers as well as Colonel Roy Mustang and Major Maes Hughes. Alphonse walked down from the train, carrying the limp body of his brother. "Out like a fucking baby." commented the Colonel as he looked down at the boy.

"Give him a brake Roy. He's fifteen."

"He's also a state alchemist. Is it too much to expect a little poise from him?" The colonel reached over and smacked the golden-haired boy with the back of his hand. The young alchemist grunted and stirred. "Of fuck it. Bring him back to the office and we'll wake him up there."

XXXXXXX

Captain Nicolai Mensk and General George Maxwell walked slowly down a curved cobblestone street, their overcoats hanging loosely from their shoulders. A platoon of Drachman soldiers in their sharp black uniforms and jackboots marched down the street, their feet like a beautifully precise ballet as they beat the cobblestones. The two officers stopped as the platoon passed by and slowly followed it. "A sign of things to come?" commented Nicolai.

"More like a guarantee." replied George as the two walked into a small white-washed building from which hung a finely carved wooden sign bearing _The Birch Tree Café_. A small bell rang and the two officers found a nice corner table where they both seated themselves. A waitress brought them their usual pitcher of coffee and two cups so they could help themselves. "Think about it. In two weeks, Ishbal is going to be just like any other part of Drachma. We'll be able to walk through the desert and still feel at home."

"I'll drink to that."said Mensk as he raised his coffee cup. "But you know as well as I do that Amestris won't take this sitting down.

"When have they ever been so cooperative?" joked the senior officer. Like you said, those troops outside are a sign of things to come. That reminds me." Maxwell reached into his coat pocket and fished out a letter, handing it to the captain. "Congratulations, Major." he said rather non-chalantly before taking a drink.

"A promotion?"

"Yep. You know as well as I do that you're the only artillery commander with any real balls in this army. When we annex Ishbal, you'll be in charge of the 31st artillery division. They want you to take charge of the first defenses in the event that Amestris declared war." The newly promoted major finished his coffee and looked back down at the letter.

"What an honor."

XXXXXXXX

Fuhrer King Bradley stood on the balcony of the Fuhrer's palace, seemingly counting the stars. He was more apprehensive than usual, and didn't smile as much as he normally did. There was a mild knock at the door. "Come in." he ordered softly.

"Fuhrer, the joint chief's of staff are here to see you." said the young lieutenant.

"Good. Send them in." the King replied without turning around. Four men in military uniforms walked slowly in succession into the room and stood stiffly at attention as their leader turned around. They all saluted, and Bradley returned the present arms. "Gentlemen, have a seat." The Fuhrer sighed and stood in the center of the four of them. "I'm going to be very blunt, my generals. The situation right now is very delicate. This whole continent is a powder keg waiting to go off, and Ishbal is the match to light the fuse. We must be careful with our demands if we want to avoid war."

"Forgive me for saying, Fuhrer, but I think at this point, war has become an inevitability." said one of them, General Robert Enos.

"We're inclined to all agree." interjected General Jack Snyder.

"If Drachma is unwilling to give up its annexation of Ishbal, we may have no choice. That's key territory that could open a road directly into Amestris." commented Lieutenant General Rickson Geary. "They've made it very clear they're not willing to negotiate any further."

"Well, that's why I've called you here. What course of action do you suggest we take?"

"I think at this point, an ultimatum would be our only chance of salvaging diplomacy." The Fuhrer nodded then rang a small button on his desk. The door quietly opened. "Yes sir?" asked his adjutant.

"Samuel, I need you to take down some notes."

"Yes Fuhrer." The Lieutenant brought out a small pad of paper from his interior jacket pocket, and a pen in his left hand.

"To the proper diplomatic authorities of the Kingdom of Drachma." he said. The pen scratching could be heard lightly in the silent room. "It has come to our attention that the annexation of Ishbal as a new territory of your government would be a blatant violation of the sovereign rights of that nation. In addition, the annexation presents a clear path of invasion to Amestris. If the annexation is carried through, our government will have no choice but to deal with it in a manner appropriate to the circumstance of it being a potentially hostile action." Samuel capped his pen.

"Will that be all, Fuhrer?" he asked.

"For now. Take that and make sure it gets to the Drachman diplomatic mission by tomorrow."


	3. Chapter II

II

Colonel Aaron Miller tugged profusely at his collar as he stared out across the city of Amestris from the balcony of the Drachman diplomatic mission. The turtleneck style uniforms of the Drachman army were, if anything, for aesthetics. To the casual onlooker, they were part of the mystique that made Drachman soldiers look like the fierce, elegant elites that they were. But the soldiers knew better. _Goddamn tailor_ he thought to himself. _Goddamn sonuvabitch_. He unbuttoned the top button and finally relieved himself of the horrid choking feeling. Fuck the dress code. He was the highest ranking officer at the embassy anyway. There was a mild knock at the door of his office as he turned to walk back inside. "Come in." he said. The door creaked open slowly and a man much younger than the 42-year-old colonel stepped in.

"Something just arrived." said Captain Kale Abbas. "It's from Fuhrer Bradley."

"First things first. Call me a fucking tailor. The next time you come in, you may find blue-faced on the floor." Kale gave a slight smile. "Onto business now. So what's this letter?"

"I don't know sir, I haven't had a look at it yet. It's addressed to the Drachman ambassador and it's an official state letter from the Amestrisian Chancellery." Colonel Miller took the letter and gently lifted the flap to reveal the stiff paper inside. He unfolded the letter and read it silently as he crumpled the envelope and threw into his wastebasket.

"Motherfucker." he said.

"What is it sir?" Aaron said nothing. He continued to read, then nodded his head and turned to the Captain, holding the letter upwards and shaking it.

"This is an ultimatum."

"For what, sir?"

"There threatening to move against us if the annexation takes place." Captain Abbas walked over and retrieved the now infamous letter. "Cocksuckers." shouted Miller. "They have no right to tell us this shit. That's sovereign land, and it doesn't have to answer to them." he shouted as he sat down at his desk and reached into the drawers and drew from it some paper and a pen. He then reached for the phone on the edge of his desk and picked it up. The signal automatically was sent to the Imperial palace in Drachma, where one of Emperor Cedric's adjutants answered the call. "I must speak with his majesty. This is urgent." Abbas sat down and quietly listened to the Colonel as he frantically strummed his fingers on the desk. "What do you mean he's indisposed! You…never mind. You must make sure this message gets passed on to his majesty." After briefly explaining the situation, Colonel Miller slammed down the receiver and looked over to his aid. "Pack your bags, Captain. I don't know how much longer we'll be sticking around."

XXXXXXX

"Is he still asleep?" asked Major Hughes as he approached Al outside of Colonel Mustang's office.

"Yes, he's been on the couch since last night. But Colonel Mustang said he would personally wake him soon." Maes' eyes widened upon hearing this comment.

"Al, did he really say he would personally wake him up?" inquired the Major in a disconcerting tone.

"Yeah. Why do you look so concerned?" Hughes said nothing, instead simply burying his face in the palm of his hand. A few moments later, there was an explosion that seemed to emanate from the room. Al jumped and covered his head while Hughes simply stood and watched the smoke seep from under the doorway.

"What the fuck was that?" The two instantly recognized the sound of Ed's voice. Alphonse burst into the door while Maes' brushed aside some of the thick, black air in the hallway. Colonel Mustang was sitting very non-chalantly at his desk with his legs crossed while Ed was sitting upright on a small love seat to one side, a vein in his forehead standing out about a foot or less.

"Sorry for the rude awakening sleeping beauty, but there's business to be taken care of." Ed reached up and rubbed the top of his head, brushing out a bit of soot. He then swung his legs over and sat on the edge of the small sofa.

"There's always business to be taken care of. What I want to know is whether or not it's worth any of my time." responded the irate young alchemist.

"What I tell you to do should never be considered a waste of time, especially with what's happening right now." Roy sighed and turned to look out the window. "Yesterday, the Fuhrer sent an ultimatum to the Drachman diplomatic mission. It stated that if their annexation of Ishbal takes place, the Amerstrisian government would take measures to deal with any potential hostilities." The flame alchemist turned back. "That means there's a possibility of war, colonel." Ed raised his eyebrow at the odd comment.

"Colonel?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, to be exact. Congratulations, Mr. Elric."

"Why the sudden promotion?"

"We're being placed on high alert. The Fuhrer wants the state alchemists to be ready for mobilization. As I said, there's a threat of war, and if I'm deployed, he needs qualified personnel to watch the home-front."

"The home front?" Colonel Mustang handed Ed a piece of paper that had been lying on his desk.

"Yes, Ed. Here is your order of promotion, and your new assignment. We need you to take charge of the home-guard state alchemists." The fullmetal alchemist rubbed his eyes and skimmed over the order, then smiled.

"Well, it's about time you had me do something useful." ­

XXXXXXXX

For the first time in nearly four weeks, the 28-year-old Emperor Cedric III was alone, sitting quietly in his study with his coat draped over the back of his chair. He was reclined rather lazily in a position in that most would deem unfit for a monarch, with his body slumped and legs agape. The Drachman ruler, however, didn't care. To him, he was in paradise. No advisors, no strategists, no diplomats rambling about the current state of affairs. To Cedric, maintaining a balance between work and pleasure was all important to keeping the state running smoothly, and right now, pleasure was the ruling virtue. He sighed as he stood up and stepped forward to one of the shelves and removed a large, leather-bound edition entitled _The Bases of Alchemic Catalysts_. He could spend hours if he wished flipping through the pages of these periodicals, letting his mind drift until being interrupted by some piece of state business. "Your majesty?" There was the state business. A hard knock came at the oak doors. "Your majesty, are you in there?" Cedric recognized the voice. It was his foreign advisor, a tall twig of a man named Arthur Feiller.

"Yes I'm here." replied the young monarch as he shut the book and shoved it back onto the shelf. The door creaked open, and Feiller stepped in.

"Ah, your majesty. We have just received words from our diplomatic mission in Amestris." Cedric sighed.

"Nothing good, I presume?" Feiller ignored the snide comment.

"It is with regards to the Ishbal annexation. Fuhrer Bradley has taken it as hostile action."

"Rubbish. He understands perfectly well this is a territorial matter. Anything we do he's going see as a hostile action."

"I fear, your majesty, you do not understand my point. Bradley has indicated that he may take action against you if the annexation takes place." Cedric paused as he walked over to a small drink trolley and poured himself a small glass of dark, red wine. "He's threatening war."

"I gathered that." Cedric took a long drink, draining the glass, and then slamming it back down on the trolley. "But don't be so dense, Feiller. We've known it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Send a reply to this ultimatum. The annexation will take place, and to view it in any hostile light is a merely a conclusion based on previous aggressions. It is a purely diplomatic issue between our government and the Ishbali people." The Drachman monarch then gathered his cap and jacket, slipping them on as he walked past Arthur and out the door of his study. "Get in contact with the Public Relations Minister. I wish to make a radio address as soon as possible." he said as they entered the entrance hall of the imperial palace and exited towards the street. A pair of armed guards marched out beside him as he walked out the door. At the bottom of a long series of steps was a car that never left the palace until it was ordered.

"Yes, your majesty." The thin man bowed as did the chauffeur when he opened the door.

"If Bradley wants war, we can't stop him, but that doesn't mean we'll allow him to catch us off-guard."


	4. Chapter III

III

It had taken nearly forty years before railways built through Ishbal. The issue went back to before Fuhrer Bradley. The idea had first arisen under the administration of Cedric I, when he wanted to establish commerce between Drachma and the eastern nations. The railways cut the travel time by nearly an hour, and George Maxwell was thankful for that. He could feel the blistering heat as he stuck his hand out the window. The wind caressed his hand with a heated blow, like the breath of a dog. Outside, he had watched as the landscape changed from paved roads, to forests, and eventually to the scorching plains of a god he had lost faith with long ago. "We're almost there." he said. Across from him, Major Mensk sat quietly, curled up in his seat.

"Mhm. Yes, sir." he groaned, not bothering to open his eyes. Maxwell watched his comrade with some interest, before again staring out the window, and this time thinking back nearly thirty years to when Drachma had gained its independence from Amestris during the revolution. In some ways, George admired the younger generations of soldiers for their tenacity, but at the same time felt that it came from the fact that they had no real grasp of actual combat. It made him sad to think that in perhaps another twenty years, men like him who had experienced the revolution first hand would be gone, but he usually brushed such feeling aside and went on with business as usual. He forgot about it as the train slowly pulled into the platform in Ishbal. He could hear the sound of trumpets blaring and looked out the window to see a group of people gathered at the platform. Some were dressed in traditional Ishbali robes while others wore the crude khaki uniforms of that nation's soldiers. As Maxwell and the groggy Mensk emerged from the train, one of the men in Khaki approached them and shook the senior officer's hand.

"General Maxwell, it's an honor to finally have you with us." he said. "I'm Colonel Ahkmed Malik."

"It's a pleasure to meet Colonel Malik. Am I to assume that everything is in order as we have agreed? His majesty wishes for things to be done quickly so we can prepare for any reaction from Amestris."

"Indeed it is. Our leaders have already signed the agreement, and we now we wish for you take part in the flag-lowering ceremony." Malik pointed to the bottom of the platform where a single flagpole stood in the center of a town square.

"Thank you, Colonel. Both I and Colonel Mensk would be honored to do so." Ahkmed bowed, and out of respect, both the General and his assistant did as well. Nicolai then reached into his pocket, drawing a whistle and blowing it, causing several platoons of soldiers to spill forth from the cars of the train.

"Battalion! Fall in!" shouted Mensk. The soldiers scrambled to quickly to form two companies of sixteen soldiers and stood stiffly with their weapons at their sides at the bottom of the platform. The were silent as Colonel Malik and a group of five Ishbali soldiers slowly lowered their flag, a yellow background with a crescent moon and eight pointed star in red. They folded it slowly and saluted. "Battalion!" shouted Mensk. "Present arms!" The sixteen men saluted with their rifles, then five men in Drachman uniforms with red sashes marched between the two companies and formed at the bottom of the pole. They saluted as Colonel Malik and his men stepped aside, then unfolded the Drachman flag, a black background with a red circle and trident in the center, and hoisted it to the top of the pole. When Ahkmed and his men had finished saluting, the five men turned to General Maxwell.

"Colors posted sir."

"Very well then. Fall out." The general turned to the battalion. "Batallion, fall out, and get to work!"

XXXXXXXX

Fuhrer Bradley watched from one of the windows of his office as soldiers marched across the parade ground below. Young men, they were, some perhaps barley out of their teens and twenties. He watched them with a feeling of strange, macabre, certainty, knowing full well that their very lives were in his hands, and if Drachma continued with things as planned, it would become his responsibility to send them to the front. The telephone rang and he turned to it, half-expecting the worse news he could imagine. "This is Bradley." he said lightly into the receiver.

"Fuhrer," spoke Samuel. "Colonel Miller from the Drachman embassy is here to see you." he said.

"Very good. Send him in." The Amestrisian leader hung up the phone and waited until the black-clad officer arrived in his office.

"Colonel Miller. It's good see you again." said Bradley as he stuck out his hand. The Drachman officer reached out and shook it with a well-intentioned motion.

"The very same, Fuhrer." Miller sat down and crossed his legs, as did Bradley, laying his arms flat across the desk. "Your highness, I'll be blunt. The leaders of my nation find your proposal unacceptable. We feel it is an attempt to control our actions by a foreign nation, and we will not bow so easily to any such tyrannical actions."

"Tyrannical? I hardly feel it to be a tyrannical action to be looking out for the welfare of my country." retorted the Amestrisian leader.

"The burden of proof that we may attempt any hostile actions against you country lies on your shoulders. You have no valid reason for stampeding our actions."

"As I said, I am looking out for the welfare of my country. If your leaders cannot understand that, then I feel I will have no choice but to take actions against them."

"Then our negotiations have failed." said Colonel Miller solemnly.

"It would appear so. I'll prepare your safe departure and return to Drachma. You will tell your leaders that they have 48 hours to withdraw from Ishbal."

"As you wish, your' Excellency."

XXXXXXXX

The national bureau of communications in Drachma was a gray-brick building with tall pillars supporting the awning of the front entrance. If not for the Drachman banners that hung from between those pillars, it was not very distinguishable from any of the older buildings in the historical district. The royal limousine carrying his majesty, Emperor Cedric III, pulled up to the front of the monolithic piece of architecture, causing some whispers from the men outside. When they saw that their overlord emerge from the vehicle, they stiffened raised their hands in salutes. "Your majesty. Everything is prepared as per your instructions." spouted one of the guards in a nervous overtone. The emperor stopped and turned his head slowly towards the man, seemingly enjoying the feelings of dread he was deriving from the nervous man.

"Thank you." he said before walking into the door. In the main lobby, a man in a three-piece suit and ascot came forward and bowed.

"You majesty, everything has been prepared for you. Our operator will be making an announcement shortly." The man in the ascot led Cedric and his men to a small glass booth with a series of large machines across the walls, each possessing all manner of dials and switches. The man in the booth pulled his microphone closer and spoke "And in just a few moments we will be hearing an official address from his majesty, Emperor Cedric III." before tapping another button. He then opened the door and bowed to Cedric before leading him to a seat with a microphone in front of him. The button clicked, and the operator turned. "Go ahead, your majesty."

"My people, loyal and patriotic citizens of Drachma. As you are already aware, yesterday, the annexation of the Ishbal took place. What you may not be aware of is that before this, I was handed an official ultimatum, stating that Amestris would seek actions against us should we attempt this. I have made an official reply to Fuhrer Bradley, stating quite clearly that we will not tolerate his tyranny, and we will not succumb to any of his threats. Forty years ago, we won our independence from the villainous dictatorship of Amestris, and if we must to fight to uphold our right to existence as a nation, then we shall." The operator in the booth cut the power and the tiny light turned off. Those watching window began to clap. Cedric was a man of few words, and he may not have always been the most brilliant of public speakers, but that didn't matter. He always chose eloquent words that captivated his audience and hypnotized them.


	5. Chapter IV

IV

The two days passed by slowly, but for Commander Enos Morris of the HFS (His Fuhrer's Ship) _Dependable_, they were like any other days. Being at sea meant he lost rack of time more easily. The ocean did not know time. It was the same anywhere you went, simply a vast oblivion, and a beautiful one too. Enos had stood for nearly twenty minutes and watched as the waves rolled in the distance, slowly coming up and lapping against the hull of his ship. A light breeze gently tossed the tails of his coat and filled his nostrils with salt air. "Coffee for you sir." Enos looked to his left to see ensign Edmon Colt.

"Thank you ensign." said Enos as he took the large tin cup and sipped. He screwed his face and gulped it down, throwing the rest in the sea. "Making it with urine?" he commented non-chalantly as he leaned on the railing.

"No sir. Petty officer Marshall made it sir." Edmon was new on the ship. He was a raw recruit, just reaching commissioned officer status upon release from the Amestris military academy, and still not free from all the formalities.

"Ensign,"

"Yes sir?"

"You are aware that I like to keep an informal ship? All this sir bullshit really wears on my nerves."

"I see, sir. I wasn't aware of that. What would you have me call you?"

"At the very least, you can call me Commander. Once you've been aboard the Dependable long enough, you can start calling me Enos."

"How long will that take, Commander?" inquired the young ensign.

"You'll know. You'll already catching on." Morris shot a sly look at the young officer who laughed slightly and looked over the railing with him. "I love the sea, but my wife says I'm too old to still be in the navy. I'm not willing to grow my land legs, so she says I should become a fisherman instead."

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking Commander?"

"Old enough. I'm fifty, and I think she's right." Edmon said nothing, simply jerking his jaw in admiration.

"Enos! We're receiving a message!" The commander looker up to the radio room that stood on a tower above the deck to see Lt. Commander Steven Kiddie standing over the railing.

"Well, what the hell does it say?" replied Enos.

"I think you should read it for your self." The commander quickly climbed the ladder to radio room, Ensign Colt following close behind. Another officer in the room sat writing as the metallic beep of the telegraph rattled off coded messages. After a few minutes, he tore the page off the pad and quickly handed it to Enos, who read it, and then picked up the microphone for the ship's loud-speaker system.

"Attention, attention. This is Commander Enos Morris. At approximately 4:36 PM, Amestris standard time, on Thursday the twelfth of June, Fuhrer Bradley issued a 48 hour ultimatum for Drachman troops to withdraw from Ishbal. They have not. As of 4:36 PM, we are officially at war with the Kingdom of Drachma. In addition, our ally Creta has declared it's support for our cause and will be mobilizing. We are being ordered to return to Central Harbor to re-supply before engaging in a naval blockade of all Drachma shipping in the Adiumus Sea." Enos set down the speaker. Throughout the ship, a faint cheer could be heard.

XXXXXXX

There was a low buzzing sound that could be heard over the parade grounds of the Central command center. Soldier in loose formation all turned their heads upwards to see a few passing bi-wing airplanes gliding slowly over below the cloud line.

"Take a look at that." said 2nd Lieutenant John Parker.

"It's one of those new-fangled aeroplanes." commented, Joshua Landcomb, another volunteer of equivalent rank.

"I spose' the Drachmans have their hands of something like that. It doesn't matter though. We're still gonna' kick the shit out of them."

"If we could stop gaping at the new toys for a moment, I would like to have all of your attention." The various men and women all turned to look at the entrance arch to the parade grounds. Major Maes Hughes stood there Flanked by Edward and Alphonse Elric. The new recruits all snapped to attention. "I'll leave it to you Edward. Alphonse, come with me."

"What? Why can't I stay?"

"You are technically a civilian, and this is a military undertaking."

"Don't worry Al. Just meet me back at Colonel Mustang's office at five o'clock." Al nodded and followed Hughes out from the grounds.

"Hey where's he going?" asked Parker as he pointed at Hughes. "Isn't he supposed to training us?"

"No, that's my job. Major Hughes is leaving in a little while. I'm Colonel Elric." Each of the new-recruits looked down at the diminutive state-alchemist, not saying a word until Parker again opened his mouth.

"You? You gotta be kidding. Ain't you kinda short?" he mouthed. Under normal circumstances, Edward would have exploded, screeching and hurling a barrage of insults and less than witty comebacks. But he relented, instead looking at him in a dead serious manner. John blinked. That was all the time Edward needed as he slid in and gut-punched the taller man, then shifted and grabbed his arm to throw him on the ground.

"Hey what the hell you little fuck?" shouted Joshua as he came up from behind and attempted to knock the daylights out of the lieutenant-colonel with a haymaker. Ed caught it easily and rolled in, elbowing the young man in the stomach and then throwing him over his hip. The two panted heavily as they lay in less than flattering positions, while Ed simply brushed himself off and stood facing the other recruits.

"Now, there's a reason beyond senseless violence for why I've done that." he joked. "I've done it to prove a point. Size does not matter if you have skill." Everyone took a step back. "My mission here is to train each and every one of you to become proficient in the alchemic arts, not as an offensive weapon, but as a defensive tool. You are volunteers in the home-guard state alchemist corps, and we must prepare for the worst." If all else failed, he had prepared the last part of his speech to appeal to their patriotic sentiments. "Are you willing to obey me so as to defend our homeland?"

"Yes sir!" they shouted without hesitation.

"Excellent. We'll begin by finding out just what exactly you know."

XXXXXXXX

Aaron Miller departed from his train car into a station filled with hundreds of soldiers. Him and his adjutant had been the last to leave the diplomatic mission. A flood of crisp black uniforms and jackboots surrounded him and Captain Abbas as they muscled their way out of the station. A newsboy waved papers in the air shouted "Extra, extra, read all about it! Amestris declares war along with Creta! Xing makes statement of support for our war effort!" Miller quickly dug through his pocket and retrieved a silver dime, handing it the boy in exchange for the communiqué.

"Well, I'll be. We're not alone in this conflict." Both he and his adjutant scanned the article. They shuffled off to the side as more troops boarded the train, and found themselves a bench where they read further.

_AMESTRIS AND CRETA DECLARE WAR!_

_EMPEROR CEDRIC III REFUSES TO WITHDRAW FROM ISHBAL!_

_XING MAKES FORMAL ALLIANCE TO AID DRACHMAN WAR EFFORT!_

"Mighty fine." commented Miller with a smile on his face as he shook the newspaper. "We're gonna' show those Amestrisian bastards a thing or two about who runs the show here."

"Amen sir." The two strolled out of the train station and into the street. Aaron flagged down a taxi that took them to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They went inside where they were greeted by a tall, mustachioed man in a military uniform, Major General Winfield Taylor.

"Sir, it's good to see you again." said the Colonel as he shook the man's hand.

"The very same. How are you doing Captain Abbas?"

"Very good sir. It feels wonderful to be home again."

"Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We have some matters of business to attend to. Please follow me to my office." The did exactly that and followed the General to his office, where another man in uniform was there to greet them. There was something different about this man though. He wore the same uniform as an infantry officer, but the single silver star that signified his rank sat inside a red patch on his collar. This was significant of a specialist.

"Gentleman, I would like you to meet Brigadier General Aemon Scott. He's with the 3rd Army's Military Intelligence Corps." The two officers saluted and Scott did the same. "I'll let him take over."

"Thank you, sir. Gentleman, as you are aware of, the situation with Amestris has turned grim. The intelligence corps has already been swamped the past week trying to monitor Bradley's every move." Scott reached up and scratched his cheek. "If you would allow me to continue, you'll understand where I'm going. With Xing entering the war, we've formed a cooperative pact with their intelligence organization, and we need men to act as liaisons between us and them. We need men with diplomatic experience to help us with this." The two said nothing, apparently not thrilled at the prospect of more complicated work. "Of course, if you choose to accept this transfer, it means immediate promotions for the both of you." Suddenly, their eyes lit up.

Colonel Miller quickly spoke up. "I would have no hesitation in accepting your offer, sir. However, I will only do so if my adjutant is willing to accept as well." All eyes turned to Captain Abbas.

"Absolutley." he said.


End file.
